Mark Patinkin: When it comes to style, or lack thereof, Dad gets the last laugh

Monday

Jun 24, 2013 at 2:05 PM

I decided to go for a quick jog. I tossed on a shirt, shorts, shoes and was on my way out when my son said it.“Dad, seriously.”That’s teen boy code for: “This is unacceptable.”“What now?” I said. He looked...

I decided to go for a quick jog.

I tossed on a shirt, shorts, shoes and was on my way out when my son said it.

“Dad, seriously.”

That’s teen boy code for: “This is unacceptable.”

“What now?” I said.

He looked me up and down and shook his head. I had no idea what I had done wrong. I usually don’t.

“Are you really going to go outside like that?” he said.

I hear this often from my children. Well, two of them — my daughter (and oldest child), and my youngest son, Zach. My older son, Alex, seldom pays attention, because he was born without fashion genes. Most days, he looks like an unmade bed.

But Zach has style, and was now observing that I lack it.

“First of all,” he said, “those shorts are way too high.”

I looked down. I was wearing them where I always wear shorts, around navel level. I consider this normal. Zach doesn’t. In his eyes, they might as was well have been at my sternum.

In truth, navel-level used to be standard, but the teen male beltline has evolved downward to a point that most now walk around with four inches of boxers showing. I’m against it. There’s a reason it’s called underwear instead of outerwear.

I decided to explain myself in terms my son would understand.

“This is how I roll, dawg,” I said.

I sometimes talk that way in the hope he’ll think I’m plugged into youth culture. Unfortunately, it backfires 100 percent of the time.

Zach shook his head again and said two words in the tone most people use to address a bad dog.

“Dad, no.” He was referring to my attempt at cool language.

It only encouraged me.

“But I think I look fly,” I said.

“Dad, please calm down.”

At that point, I gave in and tried to cooperate by pulling my shorts down slightly.

Problem solved. Can I jog now?

No, there was a second issue.

“Dad,” said Zach, “your shirt.”

Again, I had no idea what I’d done wrong.

Then he explained: “Why do you always tuck it in?”

Apparently, no young male has tucked in a T-shirt since the 1990s. Once in America, untucked shirts were considered sloppy. Now, it’s the style. It has even spread to refined realms, like Wimbledon. It freaks me out that players there don’t tuck their shirts in anymore. Style aside, doesn’t all that loose fabric get in the way? Shouldn’t sports be the one area where function is more important than form? I suppose if that were the case, basketball players would still be wearing bun-hugger shorts.

What really confuses me is that it’s not just T-shirts. Men now walk around with untucked dress-shirts beneath sports jackets. When did that start? Tucking is just out of favor.

So I complied. I pulled my T-shirt out of my shorts. It wasn’t what I was used to, but a dad does what he has to do.

“Am I good now?” I asked. I figured I had to be. I’d fixed my shorts. I’d fixed my T-shirt. That about covered it.

Apparently not.

“Dad, your socks.”

I looked down and saw what has long been a source of humiliation for both my sons.

I wear high white socks. I mean, I think they’re normal, but mid-calf is now seen as high. I believe the technical name is “crew socks,” though I just call them socks, because I’ve worn them that way ever since I put on my first pair of Keds.

This, however, is 2013, and if you have any swag at all — did I use that word right? — you wear ankle socks. Or even no-show ones that barely reach the top of your sneakers. My sons have pushed me to try those, but I can’t bear it. They make my lower legs feel naked. So I always keep them high. In their eyes, that means I pretty much have the same look as those old guys in Florida who wear black socks pulled up to their knees along with dress shorts.

“Come on Dad,” said Zach.

On this one, I held my ground. I’ll hitch down the shorts, untuck the shirt, but I draw the line at the socks. I’m an old dog.

Still, two out of three isn’t bad. I asked if he could give me credit for that. I’d solved 66.66 percent of my style problems.